A Fox of Any Hue
by Feichin LeFay
Summary: A Flirtious Thief, a Chinese Jade Statue, A Circus Mistress not to be messed with, and a gang of well-meaning Teen Heros are twined together in a horror of vengeance and deception. Chp 2
1. Chase!

   Please pardon me, this is my first Titan's fic.

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     Soft laughter echoed down in the still night air; it wasn't malicious, nor was it cruel – it sounded elated, perhaps a bit mocking to the Boy Wonder. He leapt over, and swung around the exposed pipes of the construction site, and clamored over the wall, up and over onto a fire escape. The shadow loomed not so far from him – long tuxedo coattails flittered on the wall.

    Robin cursed softly at the fact his group had been separated in their search of the museum. He can't stop to call them; he was too close to losing the thief to risk the delay. A flip from the clothesline and he bounded on the rooftop, shoes clacking against the terra-cotta tiles of the restaurant. He can see the inky-black hair of the rogue, the white tuxedo of satin. "Stop right there!"

    Quick as a wink, the thief spun on his heels to look back, cane tucked under arm, left foot resting against the right knee, one black glove tilting the collapsible top hat. Oh great... a show off! Robin muttered darkly as he stalked closer, acting more like an angry feline then a flittering day bird. The black painted mask glistened dully in the sickle moonlight, the shape reminiscent of the phantom of the Opera. "I was wondering when you're going to say that, little day bird." The voice, a teenager's no doubt -- but deeper then Robin's own -- purred almost lazily as he shifted pose, leaning on the walking stick. Robin can see a large bulge on the side – no doubt that the statute he stole was in there.

    The Ravenette bristled at the nickname as he leaned upwards, so he can match eyes with the taller boy. At this proximity, he can see the mask was of boiled leather, the thief's skin was dusky, almost coppery, and that he did not use the 'filters' common among the costumers to cover his amber eyes. "You better hand over the Jade Fox, who ever you are."

    A look of feigned insult, the rogue shook his head. "You don't know me? Le sigh – am I really not that newsworthy?" He reached his hands out, almost mocking, then a card appeared in one of the gloved hands from nowhere. "My card" He tossed it, his light grin grew wider as Robin caught it easily.

    "A Jack of Spades?" Robin questioned with a raised brow.

    "Jack of all trades and A Master of the craft, my friend," A sweeping bow, hat brushing against the ground. "I am called Trick Master – at your service, correction, at your twitting." He leapt to his feet, tethering on the edge.

    Twitting...? Robin nearly gaped – that was carnie slang! The Boy wonder darted after – just as Trick Master dropped down onto a taxi below, as he waved to the Titan's leader.

    The bright yellow vehicle sped off, oblivious to the extra passenger. Robin attempted to follow after – but alas, it was much faster then any one foot, and soon, he lost the thief.

    "Damn it!" The dark-hair teen cursed as he pulled out the Titan's Com. "Hey guys, I just lost track of the thief, but I can get you some more detail on him. He's wearing a white tuxedo, with a black mask, and is currently hitching a ride on the roof of a Taxi. He calls himself Trick Master."

    "Roger." "Got it" "We'll be keeping an eye out." Came the chorus of replies.

    Robin started to double back to the R-Cycle – where he had left it when he first spotted Trick Master scrambling up the exposed beams of construction site. As he knocked the kickstand back to place, his mind raced over the few clues he gleamed from the encounter. Older... obviously had been with a circus at some point in time, and clearly this wasn't his first little escapade.

    He slide the helmet on as the engine revved into life – If he act quickly, he can still find that bandit!


	2. An Interval

Warning may be PG 13 now, but it will rise to an R, you'll known when it will.

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Seraph Vega yawned as he tossed a mask back into the costume trunk. He twirled the hat once in his gloved hands before flattening it. With careful attention to detail as much as a slight hint of the flamboyant, piece-by-piece of his outfit dropped to the rug-covered floor.

"That was rather fun, I'll admit." 'Set' chuckled as he unfastened the pouch, allowing the object to be illuminated by the gas-powered camp light.

A fox stared unblinking at the observant amber eyes, its 'coat' gleamed with the palest of ice-green hue, and so intricate was the carving that it's five tails almost seemed to move in the yellowish light. A rare display of beautiful white-jade that was nearly a foot high, and weighing close to five pounds -- so expensive on it's own, and priceless in its rarity.

"Aren't you a beauty? I think I may keep you instead of selling." The blue-black haired teen smiled warmly as he lifted with utmost care, to examine it further. "And to think I was going to take a musty old Katana, Now where can I put you where you won't break…" eyes scanned the small tent, peering over a dusty vanity, towards a mush-up cot, over the faded old posters, and down to the trunk. "Not exactly a fine way to store you, but it'll have to do until the run's over." Shifting through the contents, he yanked out a colorful scarf bedecked with tassels and fringes in a gaudy Mardi-Gras coloration. With the same skilled hands that stolen the Vixen, he twined, and wrapped it around the figure, leaving all but it's disturbingly cunning eyes covered.

"Set! Get changed, you're act's coming up!" A sharp, yet darkly melodious voice rang out as the teen hastily shut the trunk.

"Yes Mistress! Just a wink!" The Portuguese-descended male called back as he reopened the trunk, and unburied a glittering blue leotard with faint feathery outlines. Seraph, Nephil, Domi, Kerub, Angelo, and Virtue -- the Wings of the Magi! He memorized the names as he dropped his shorts, exchanging it for a thong, as that it would not ruin the contour of his athletic frame once the suit was placed on. Hopping on his feet as he pulled the skin-tight costume over himself, he peered out the flap of his tent, as he yanked a sleeve over his arm.

Smoothing out any remaining wrinkles, Seraph shoved his feet into the black slippers, and his hair into a tight braid. He passed by the petite, elfin woman with impossibly luxurious, waist-length copper hair. Her firm silver-gray eyes watched over 'Set' as he hurried up to join with other similarly dressed teenagers.

Isolde shook her head as she glided off to the lane, to assist with last-minute touches of make up to the Uncle and Auntie Bones that would populate the rings this night.

The gas-light, left on by the one known as Trick Master dimmed into nothingness, but yet, the tent was still a lit with a green-white after glow, before it too blinked out.


End file.
